


Schism

by autumnyte



Series: Boss Moshe Hazzan [7]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Break Up, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/pseuds/autumnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moshe calls Troy shortly after landing in Steelport. The conversation doesn't go how either of them want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schism

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Chyrstis and giant-sequoia for the beta.

It had been two hours since Moshe crash-landed in Steelport, and every moment since had felt like a waking nightmare. There was only one other experience in his life that compared--the day he lost Aisha and didn't know whether Johnny would make it.

_Johnny._

Walking out of Friendly Fire with Shaundi in tow and a new pistol firmly in his grip, Moshe began to feel winded out of nowhere, as if someone punched the breath from his lungs. Realizing he was hyperventilating, he stopped in his tracks and doubled over.

"Boss?" Shaundi placed a hand on his back.

"I'll be fine," he lied, barely suppressing the urge to vomit. He held up a hand. "Just give me a moment, yeah? I need to call Troy before we hit the armory."

Shaundi hesitated, then nodded. "I'll be waiting in the car. And he better have some answers about why the Stilwater P.D. fucked us over."

Moshe carefully righted himself, leaning against the brick wall for support. He pulled out his phone and noted twelve missed calls from Troy, along with three voicemails. He didn't bother listening to the messages before calling him back.

Troy picked up on the first ring, sounding frantic. "Mo? _Christ_. What the fuck happened? You okay?"

Moshe closed his eyes, overwhelmed at the thought of explaining it all. "Do me a favor and tell me what you already know."

"Found out about the arrest." Troy sighed. "Fucking bastards. Did some interrogating and learned about this… Syndicate group. Also discovered my deputy's dirty as a mudpit and been conspiring with the commissioner to run me out."

"Really… _Cindy_?"

"Yeah. She covered her tracks real good, but it was happening right under my nose. I feel like such a jackass. I don't know yet who else in the department was involved, but I'll find out. They won't get away with--"

"Johnny's dead," Moshe blurted, and hearing the words from his own lips made them more real than they had been before. He started reeling and, gripping the side of the building, sank slowly to the ground.

There was silence on the line for a moment, then Troy whispered, "Gat? No. He… he can't be. How?"

Moshe felt tears welling up and was grateful that at least they were silent ones. "Fucking Syndicate. Took us from jail, thanks to Cindy's people, sounds like. Trussed us up and tossed us onto Loren's plane. Motherfucker had the balls to propose a fucking takeover of the Saints disguised as a shite business deal. There was a scuffle and Shaundi and I managed to jump out of the plane before it crashed, but Johnny"-Moshe's voice broke-"didn't make it."

Troy exhaled loudly. " _Fuck._ Where are you now?"

Moshe wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Bloody hellhole called Steelport. Syndicate's turf. They cut off access to our funds, like that could stop us. They have no idea who they're messing with, but they'll learn soon enough. I'm gonna take every last motherfucker down, including Loren."

"Whoa, they got to your accounts, just like that? These guys have their claws even deeper in shit than I thought. Let me wire you enough money to get home."

 _Home_. The word sent a sharp jab straight through Moshe. He had never wanted to be anywhere so badly. Wished he could crawl into bed and throw himself into Troy's arms until the nightmare was over. But he couldn't. "Not yet. Not budging until Loren and the Syndicate are dealt with."

"Hang on, do you even have the resources to take them out where you are?" Troy paused, and Moshe could hear the sound of a lighter flicking on, followed by a sharp inhale. "I mean… this outfit sounds like serious business and you're on their turf. Wouldn't it make more sense to come back here and regroup?"

"You expect me to run off with my tail between my legs? Let Loren think he's gotten the best of us?" Moshe stood quickly, an unexpected surge of anger coursing through him. He wasn't even sure why he was yelling at Troy, but he couldn't stop himself. "No fucking way. This is vengeance for Johnny. That won't wait a bloody minute longer than it has to. I took over Stilwater with next to nothing, didn't I? I can damn well do the same with this pisshole."

"All right, all right. Don't bite my head off. I'm trying to help." Troy sounded calm, and Moshe couldn't decide if that was comforting or infuriating.

"How soon 'til you can get here?"

"Huh?"

"You said you want to help, and I need you here with me." Moshe leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. His memory flashed on Troy at his side, taking out all those Ronin right after Aisha died and Johnny was laid up in the hospital.

"Mo… look, I'm in no position to up and leave," Troy said, slowly. "Especially not now, not with this. The commissioner, Cindy, and God knows who else waiting for the first chance to stab me in the back and take over."

"Then fucking walk away. Let them have it for now. We'll sort it all out when this is over, when we get back." Moshe added, softly, "I can't do this without you, Troy."

"Shit. I wish I could drop everything and be there with you, but I… just _can't_. You won't be doing it without me, though. I'll help you from here. At least in Stilwater, I have jurisdiction and access to department resources. And I'll find out what I can from whoever's in bed with the Syndicate." Troy sighed. "There's not much I could do there in Steelport anyway."

"Fuck that. I wasn't asking you here to play cop. I want you here with me, with the Saints. I don't give a good goddamn about jurisdiction and procedure. 'Bullets still kill motherfuckers, right?' That's what Johnny used to say." The edges of Moshe's vision went blurry and he took in a slow, deliberate breath to avoid crumpling to the ground again.

"I'm not abandoning the department I spent years building, after everything I've sacrificed to get here, only to come out to some strange city and--what--lend you an extra gun?" Troy sucked loudly on his cigarette. "I can't believe you'd even ask me to do that. You know how important this work is to me."

Moshe closed his eyes, still blinking back tears. "More important than your friends? More bloody important than me? No, I didn't know that, actually. Reckon I've had the wrong end of the stick about your priorities all this time."

Troy began to raise his voice, any trace of calm having vanished. "Don't go turning it around like that. My job's always fine and dandy with you when it's useful to the Saints, but the second I'm not willing to be another dog on your leash, you start questioning my loyalty and my priorities? That's bullshit. It's unfair and you know it."

"So, that's what you think? This ain't the leader of the Saints trying to pull a power play on the chief of police. This is me, just me, asking my friend and lover for some fucking help. This ain't about any fucking dog leash, alright? It's about avenging Johnny. _Johnny_." Moshe was no longer able to hold back, and a few loud sobs escaped into the receiver.

"Jesus, Mo. I'm… sorry," Troy said, his voice quiet and soft again. "Do you know how much I wish I could hold you right now?"

Moshe's entire body ached with the need. "Then get on a plane and do it."

"This weekend, I'll be able to--"

"No." Moshe cut him off, cycling from sorrow back to anger. "Don't bother. This ain't a weekends and holidays sort of gig. Either you're part of it, and you're here with me--with _us_ , whatever it takes for Johnny--or you're not."

"Be reasonable," Troy implored.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then." Moshe dabbed his cheeks with his forearm and smoothed out his polo shirt. "Which means you and I are through."

"What? Wait… what the fuck?" There was a palpable edge of desperation in Troy's words. "Moshe-- _don't_. Just take some time. It doesn't have to be like this."

This was it. Troy really wasn't coming to Steelport. Moshe was going to have to do all this without him.

"I wish like hell it didn't. But you've chosen, haven't you?" Nausea roiled in Moshe's gut, acidic and bitter. The nightmare kept getting worse and he knew he was never going to wake up from it. "Goodbye, Troy."

He hung up the phone, switched off the ringer, and somehow managed to walk a straight path back to the car, where Shaundi was waiting for him.


End file.
